Source: taces Via: wewereajigsaw

2. We were standing in line outside of something
two by two, or alone in pairs, or simply alone,
looking into windows full of scissors,
windows full of shoes. The street was closing,
the city was closing, would we be the lucky ones
to make it? They were showing
in a glass case, the Man Without A Country.
We held up our passports in his face, we wept for him.

They are dumping animal blood into the sea
to bring up the sharks. Sometimes every
aperture of my body
leaks blood. I don’t know whether
to pretend that this is natural.

Is there a law about this, a law of nature?
You worship the blood
you call it hysterical bleeding
you want to drink it like milk
you dip your finger into it and write
you faint at the smell of it
you dream of dumping me into the sea.

Adrienne Rich, from 1941: Waking in the Dark
Bloodstream by Stateless
Via: nujabees
❝ It’s 3 am and I’m in love with you ❞
Via: forestrees
❝ you know the picture is incomplete but it can stand for itself
and who are you to ask for more, who are you to insist on hunger? ❞
Conchitina Cruz, from “Morning” 
❝ Of all the things I am not very good at, living in the real world is perhaps the most outstanding. ❞
Anne TylerThe Accidental Tourist
❝ For we are incomplete and know no future,
And we are howling or dancing out our souls
In beating syllables before the curtain:
We are Shakespearean, we are strangers. ❞
Hallelujah by Matty Healy
Source: edenclair Via: pigmenting
❝ He in his madness prays for storms, and dreams that storms will bring him peace. ❞
Leo Tolstoy, from The Death of Ivan Ilych 
Source: larmoyante Via: xenocidere
❝ I am exhausted, I am exhausted -
Pillar of white in a blackout of knives.
I am the magician’s girl who does not flinch ❞
Sylvia Plath, from The Bee Meeting
❝ Often when I imagine you,
your wholeness cascades into many shapes.
You run like a herd of luminous deer,
and I am dark;
I am forest. ❞
Rilke’s Book of Hours, I, 45.
❝ You too know that all my eyes see, all touch with myself, from any distance, is you. The caress of fabrics, the color of colors, the wires, the nerves, the pencils, the leaves, the dust, the cells, the war and the sun, everything experienced in the minutes of the non-clocks and the non-calendars and the empty non-glances, is you. ❞
❝ He asked me when I planned to come back. Always, I said. ❞
– from The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño
❝ If it’s darkness
we’re having, let it be extravagant. ❞
Jane Kenyon, from Taking Down The Tree